


wanderlust

by So_much_angst



Series: wanderlust [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dovahzul Heavily Referenced, Dragonborn Characters, F/M, Gal are Dragons, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Heavy Angst, Heavy Magic, Implied/Referenced Torture, Khajiit Self Inserts, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Drinking, POV Original Character, Skyrim - Freeform, for one chapter, future setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 18:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11296338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_much_angst/pseuds/So_much_angst
Summary: Cold air.Fresh snow.Bittersweet wind.{The Skyrim AU}





	wanderlust

He takes a moment to stop. To listen. A pained cry echoes from further down the hall, followed by the wild roar of approval. He can't take much more, sitting by and hearing as more and more are slaughtered in his place. But what good is he to them anymore? Dismemberment took his arm. Took his skill. Took his very fighting spirit. He's worthless now, just dead weight to the growing movement. He is no champion. No. Not anymore.

Another shriek. Another mad cheer for bloodshed not far behind. He shakes his head, an iron grip on his wounded side as he makes his way down the hall. The sounds of battle follow him, dropping in volume the further he gets, but still far too close for comfort. He risks a look back, the stolen dagger at his hip a comforting presence in the dark passage. If the Gal figured out he had left, figured out he had escaped, there was no telling what unspeakable horrors would be released upon him. He could be eaten alive, torn apart, made to suffer until his last breath. Or worse, he could be turned over to the Druids. Those damn elves would have their way with him, experimenting and tearing him to pieces only to be rebuilt as something so much worse. He had seen what they did to Matt, and he hates himself for having to put his poor companion out of his misery. _It's better this way_ , he thinks bitterly, shaking the memories of the viscous liquid dribbling down his side and Matt's face away.

Now is not the time to get distracted. 

Hearing voices, he presses himself against the carved out wall, grip falling from his injured stump of an arm to the steel dagger. They grow and fade past as the sentries cross the path in front of him. He's still safe; they haven't noticed his escape yet. He breaks across the path, following the pull inside his chest like a beacon.

Cold air.

Fresh snow.

Bittersweet wind.

His heart feels their tug, guiding him to one of the several entrances to the complex. A guard sits by the barricaded door, half dozing.

He has to be quick. He keeps to the shadows, silently unsheathing the blade on his belt. When the guard drops their head once more into sleep, he strikes. The dagger glides through the exposed skin of their neck down to bone, his stump shoved into their mouth as they let out a cut off cry in death. He ignores the burst of pain from teeth against the old wound. Warmth spills across his good arm as he drops the body carefully from their chair to the floor. He hates the way that their clouded eyes stare at him as he rummages for the key, but it's necessary, he tells himself.

He has to escape, he has to warn people.

Pain begins to burst across his temple as he finally makes it out of the keep. He steals a horse, the ache in his head worsening with every step he takes from the wooden door. Once he manages to scramble onto his newfound mount, he takes gives her a good nudge in the ribs, the horse taking off. He's barely able to direct her out of the maze of crumbled walls and wooden ramps. She takes a flying leap over a small mound, making a rough landing while he fights the blossom of pain. She makes it a few more hundred yards before he slumps over, unable to fight the blackout levels of pain. He keeps his eyes open long enough get the horse across a small river and onto a well worn path before the darkness swarming at the edge of his vision takes over.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Filok:** _Escape_  
>  Consider this a prologue.
> 
> It's all downhill from here.
> 
>  
> 
> [ The Official _wanderlust_ tumblr](https://wander--llust.tumblr.com/)


End file.
